


Automatically in Love

by EarthsickWithoutYou



Category: Charmed (TV 2018)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-03-09 10:10:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18914830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthsickWithoutYou/pseuds/EarthsickWithoutYou
Summary: After the events of the Season 1 finale, Harry and Macy are doing their best to pretend she never read his mind and found out he has feelings for her.  To help soothe her confused emotions, Macy gets addicted to reading fanfiction, and Maggie decides to help the would-be couple out by casting a special spell.





	1. Slow burn

Macy sighed with a wistfully sad smile as she sat curled up on her favorite couch in the attic, her computer nestled into her lap and her eyes locked to the screen.

“Hello up there,” Mel chirped as she ascended the stairs. “Planning on rejoining the human race anytime soon? It’s beautiful out!”

Mel walked over and flopped down beside Macy, who blinked distractedly out of her reading daze and refocused on reality. 

“Oh! Uh, hey, Mel.” She sat up straighter and cleared her throat, moving to close the lid of her laptop.

“Ah, no you don’t!” Mel grabbed the computer with a playful grin, “I’m dying to know what’s got you so fixated, you’ve been holing up here for days just reading and reading.”

“Well, it’s just a little, you know…” Macy’s cheeks flushed as she fumbled to explain the recent increase in her addiction to a certain popular, and often misunderstood form of online writing.

“Fanfiction,” Mel remarked as she perused the story which had Macy so fascinated: “It Had to Be You,” yet another of the many _Heaven’s Vice_ tales Macy had read over the last week.

“I get so confused by all these descriptions,” Mel mused, brow furrowing as she examined the tags. “I mean…’Enemies to Lovers to Friends to Enemies to Lovers?’ ‘Angst with a Crushingly Sad Ending’? What’s the appeal? I could just live my actual life if I wanted to experience some of this stuff.”

Maggie pranced nimbly upstairs to join them, curious what they were talking about.

“Macy, are you still reading fanfiction instead of getting the hell out of this freaking attic to go tell Harry how you feel?” Maggie rolled her eyes, but her smile was softly sympathetic despite her disapproval.

“What?” Macy snorted with an overcompensating laugh. “I don’t need to tell him anything about _feelings_! I mean, Harry? Me? Feelings that we...feel? Nooooo, none here, nothing to see, just a scientist with a paid week’s staycation indulging a well-earned flight of fandom fancy.” Macy gave her sisters a smug smile as she felt sure she’d aced that explanation.

“Um...what?” Mel asked, glancing back and forth between her sisters. “Macy, is there something going on between you and Harry?”

Macy stood up and took the computer back, folding it and putting it under her arm for safe-keeping.

“Yes,” Maggie put in confidently.

“No,” Macy argued, “There isn’t, because there can’t be, not ever. For, I mean for one thing, he’s my whitelighter, and it’s forbidden for me to date him, so you know. So there!”

“Except, it’s not forbidden anymore; Harry’s a free agent now.” Maggie pointed out.

“Ohhh,” Mel breathed, “This explains everything. How did I not see this before? I must have been so caught up nursing my broken heart after Niko that I just couldn’t notice. But look at you, Macy, you’re doing that babbling thing you only do when you have a huge crush on someone.”

“What? I don’t babble, what? Me, not being able to string a sensible sentence together, I mean come on!” Macy gave a nervous giggle. “It’s me. You know me better than that.”

“I’ve known you long enough to recognize the signs of you being into someone,” Mel claimed, “This is a lot like how you were about Galvin when we first met, except it’s--” she cut off, realizing the end of the sentence seemed really insensitive.

“Except that it’s even stronger, your feelings for Harry are even stronger,” Maggie finished impatiently. “Ever since you found out he’s carrying a torch for you, ever since you heard his thoughts when you had the Source inside you, you haven’t been able to get it off your mind. So here you are, reading all about Levi and Gideon going after their lady loves while you’re hiding from the man _you_ love.”

“Gee, you’re right,” Macy said a bit too brightly, moving the curtains of the small window on the back wall to peer out at the lovely weather. “It’s a warm, sunny, perfect day, and I should totally be out there! I’m gonna head to the park and leave this laptop at home because I’m not addicted to fanfiction and I’m not hiding from Harry.”

“Girls?” A familiarly posh British accent sounded from downstairs. “Are you home?”

Macy leaped up in the air as if she’d been electrified, whisper-shrieking, “Meghan Markle!” and Maggie gave Mel a “toldja so” look. 

“A little on edge, are we?” Maggie asked, pretending to check her nails.

“It’s Harry,” Macy remarked rather obviously through her teeth.

“Mmmhmm,” her sisters answered, their faces teasing and expectant.

“Well, one of you say something before he comes up here! I can’t face him right now, not when I’ve been reading this slow-burn that just got to the smutty part, and thinking about all sorts of things I shouldn’t. I need to pull myself together.” Macy put the laptop down on the bench under the window and self-consciously straightened her cute navy and white polka dot sundress.

“You look amazing, Macy!” Maggie enthused, coming over to her and taking her hands. “Why don’t you go down and talk to him?”

“Girls? Hello, are you in the attic?” Harry called confusedly. They were lucky he hadn’t already whooshed into the room.

“Okay, fine, I admit it, I like Harry, _a lot_ , I can’t stop thinking about him, and I’ve been coming up with any excuse I can think of to avoid him because he drives me crazy. All I want to do is grab him and kiss him, but we’re friends and he’s our whitelighter, and it’s _complicated_ \--and I just lost Galvin and I’m scared of getting hurt again by some new relationship…” Macy monologued on in a desperate whisper, and Mel rested a hand on her shoulder.

“Oh, Macy…I know how overwhelming that must be.”

“Yeah,” Macy affirmed with a shaky nod. “Sometimes I think subconsciously I must always have been attracted to Harry, but I didn’t want to admit it to myself, and what if that’s why things with Galvin never quite felt right? I just kept trying to make it work because it seemed like the right thing, and Harry seemed like this ridiculous, unattainable fantasy, and I hate losing people and having my heart broken, and you guys, I am freaking out!”

“You’re gonna be okay,” Maggie soothed, making her sisters jolt slightly when she went from a soft murmur to a loud shout, adding swiftly, “We’ll be right down, Harry! Wait there!”

“Ow, my ears,” Mel complained. “Don’t worry, Macy, we’ve got you. Whatever we can do to help you work through these feelings, we’ll be here for you like you always are for us.”

“Not so long ago I was a fiendish embodiment of all evil, so wrapped up in my own insecurities I thought it was okay to rearrange the whole universe, including your lives, however I wanted.” Macy shrugged. “I wouldn’t say I’ve always been there for you.”

“I think you should show yourself a lot more compassion,” Mel suggested, “If one of us had taken on the Source, we would have made mistakes just as big. We knew the whole time how much you loved us, and that you’d find your way back, because we always _can_ rely on each other.”

“I don’t know,” Macy worried, "I just don't know, Mel. But come on, let’s go downstairs before Harry starts thinking something’s wrong.”

“Ah, there you are, girls.” He gave his usual friendly nod and smile to Mel and Maggie, then cast that heartbreakingly sincere, hopeful glance at Macy.

Everytime he did that, she got this weird, floaty sensation that felt as potent as many magic she’d ever had inside her. But what the hell was she supposed to do with these feelings?

The only thing she could think of right now was to lock Harry Greenwood deep inside her heart and throw away the key. He could only be hers in those silly fantasies that kept her going back to the fanfictions for new romantic scenarios to visualize. If she told him about this crush, it would _be_ crushed one way or another -- by life, by the fact that romance ruined friendships, by some inevitable crisis. Wasn’t that how it always went? Even her sisters were living testimonies to the doomed nature of true love.

“Hey, Harry,” Macy said cheerfully, twisting the key in her heart so her emotions would be safe from his perceptive gaze. “What’s up?”

“Oh, I just popped by to see how everyone is doing,” he replied breezily, looking torturously handsome in his dapper suit. Rocking back on his heels, looking pleased with the dutiful excuse to come by, he added, “So, have there been any mysterious or foreboding events today?”

“Not really, just the same old, same old,” Macy lied. There was a major mystery lurking inside her, and it was _definitely_ foreboding: how was she going to get through being madly in love with him but too afraid to talk about it?

He nodded, “In that case, why don’t we take advantage of this lull in supernatural threats to practice with each of your powers? You girls know, of course, know that regular--”

“Regular practice is the key to unlocking all that we may achieve,” the Charmed Ones answered in perfect unison.

“I suppose I have said that phrase a few times before,” he chuckled. 

“I would really love to stay and work on all of that with you, but right now I’ve got to head out,” Macy declared, practically bolting to the front door. “I’m, um, meeting a friend for coffee.”

It was the only lie she could think of in the moment, but she immediately regretted it. Disappointment and even a tiny hint of pain flickered across Harry’s face before he could quite compose himself. It was starting to seem like she ran away anytime he came around.

“I see,” he managed to say with a much more strained smile. “Well, I hope you have a wonderful time.” He fidgeted with his hands like he’d forgotten where to put them, and Maggie rushed to the rescue. 

“Harry, I’ve actually been wanting to run through some of those meditation exercises with you,” she suggested.

“Yeah, that sounds helpful,” Mel put in because she couldn’t just stand there and watch either. “Count me in, too.”

Now that she saw the sparks between Macy and Harry, Mel couldn’t _un_ see it. The affection between them was so awkwardly repressed that it gave her a bittersweet twinge as she recalled how she’d had to pretend not to love or even know Niko once her ex-girlfriend’s memories were wiped.

“See you all later,” Macy called on her way out the door. She couldn’t help risking a quick look back at Harry, but he was already talking to her sisters with his back to her.

“Maaaacy,” Maggie cooed, “I know AO3 has a mobile app. You’re not fooling me.”

 _Damn._ It’s true that the only “friend” she was bringing to the coffee shop was her iPhone -- well, unless you counted Levi and Gideon. Macy waved again with a plastic grin, then fled the house like it was on fire.

Harry was perfectly aware that Mel and Maggie were overcompensating with their supposed interest in training, but he assumed it was just because he was being what they would affectionately term a “dork,” unable to get through a simple conversation in Macy’s presence without bafoonish idiocy. He tugged at the collar of his impeccable white shirt, wondering just when it had gotten so hot in here. 

“AO3?” he asked Maggie in bafflement.

“Long story,” Maggie punned. 

“Harry, is there something you want to tell us about your feelings for Macy?” Mel inquired as Harry stopped blushing, turning pale as a ghost.

“I think it’s best I don’t,” he replied, wishing they would leave it be. The concerned looks on Maggie and Mel’s faced only amplified Harry’s anxious mood until he felt a lump in his throat. _Get a hold on yourself, man!_ He’d been telling himself this quite sternly every day since Macy had read his mind, but it had yet to actually work.

“Okay, this is a real problem,” Mel sighed, “He’s just as stubborn as Macy!”

“You realize I’m standing right here. And what’s Macy being stubborn about? Oh! And, em, do you know if this coffee shop rendezvous is...does she have a date?” Harry frowned, irritated with himself for the stream of obviously smitten questions. “No, never mind, forget I asked.”

“Ugh, come _on_ ,” Maggie whined, quoting some of Harry and Macy’s most notorious recent statements about each other, “‘Pretend it never happened,’ ‘it’s complicated,’ ‘forget I asked,’ enough already! Life is too short for all this hesitation, Harry. Just ask Macy out already.”

“Maggie, it is highly inappropriate of you to--” Harry began, but Maggie cut him off.

“No, it’s not! Because Macy is our sister and you’re our friend! And we just want you both to be happy.”

“Maggie,” Mel murmured, surprised at her sister’s vehemence. “Maybe we should let it go for now.”

“I want you and Macy to be happy. Because _somebody_ should get to be,” Maggie told Harry, her lips wobbling before she stormed off.

Now Mel understood, could even empathize. “I think she’s still really sad about Parker leaving. Getting you and Macy together probably seems like a great way to bring a little happiness into the world, when there’s been so much pain for us lately.”

“I shouldn’t have been so dismissive...I ought to have known why she had her heart set on it.” Harry shook his head at his foolishness. It seemed he couldn’t do anything right these days.

“Aw, Harry, it’s okay. There’s no manual for any of this. We’ll find our way through together.” Mel’s words earned nothing more than another sad look from Harry, so she added encouragingly, “Hey, cheer up. Meditation?”

***********************************

That night, Maggie couldn’t sleep. All she could do was flick through old pictures on her phone of happier times with Parker, the ache in her heart getting too much to handle. Restlessly, she paced all over the house while everyone else slept, almost like she was looking for someplace to put her energy. She peeked in at Macy, who’d fallen asleep on top of the covers, her own phone dangling listlessly from her fingers, almost ready to fall to the floor. She might be the youngest sister, but Maggie could be a bit of a mother hen at times.

She slipped noiselessly into the room and caught the phone just before it fell. Macy must have drifted off to sleep a minute ago because the screen on the phone was still unlocked, displaying Chapter 47 of a _Heaven’s Vice_ fanfic. Maggie sighed. If only there was something she could do to give Macy and Harry a little nudge towards each other and end their misery. 

Just then, inspiration struck and Maggie’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. _I’ve got it!_

She took Macy's phone with her up to the attic, keeping her thumb over the screen so it wouldn't fall asleep. Okay, so it was a tiny invasion of privacy, but if Maggie didn't take action, nothing good was going to happen here. She _needed_ something good to happen, so playing Cupid seemed to be the perfect solution.

Maggie carefully looked through all of Marisol’s little potion bottles until she found the exact one she needed. Then she gave a joyful little squeal, sprinkling the magic powder over Macy’s phone screen and clicking the button on the side to shut the screen off before the spell worked on her instead of Macy. Now, to think of a way to pull off the rest of this plan…

____

___*************************************_

Macy woke the next morning and instinctively reached out for her phone. But it wasn’t there on the bed next to her. She sat up, remembering how she’d thrown her pj’s on and lay down to continue reading her story...but she must have conked out right in the middle of a passionate embrace between an angelic hero and a doe-eyed mortal heroine. Again.

“Hey, has anyone seen my phone?” She called groggily, padding barefoot down to the kitchen, where she nearly jumped out of her skin to see Harry. He was mixing batter for two different batches of blueberry scones, one vegan for Maggie as usual. 

__Since the new awkwardness between them, Harry hadn’t been around to make breakfast as often as usual. Macy had missed him, so much it hurt, and even trying to recreate his recipes herself didn’t make it feel any better. That little ritual had seemed like a good way to ease his absence when he was gone in the past, but now she worried he might never again be the constant presence in their lives he used to be. And all because she couldn't stop screwing things up.__

He glanced up at her surprised expression, looking way too cute in his apron. “Oh. Good morning, Macy...Maggie invited me to breakfast, but, um, well…”

__“But I burned the pancakes I was making us, so Harry took over the cooking.” Maggie smiled innocently. Perhaps a little _too_ innocently._ _

__Macy gave Maggie a curious look, noting that her sister definitely seemed to be up to something._ _

__“Haven’t seen your phone,” Mel said, passing Macy the science section of the newspaper and sliding a coffee mug her way._ _

__Macy sat down with a grateful smile and muttered, “Thanks,” figuring she may as well hang out and pretend things were normal._ _

__If she just kept acting that way, would the relationship between the four of them go back to the way it used to be? With Harry feeling like another member of the family, coming over at all hours and seamlessly falling into pace with their lives? He might feel like a family member, but he definitely had never seemed like a brother. She couldn’t deny that for her, those flawless suits of his were made of pure boyfriend material._ _

__“Uh, Macy...isn’t that your phone right over there?” Maggie asked with an impish grin. “By Harry?”_ _

__Harry looked over to the counter beside him and noticed that Macy’s phone was indeed there. “Ah! Dreadfully sorry, Macy, I had no idea. But I assure you, I haven’t spilled anything on it.”_ _

__Macy laughed and went to him, waving off his apology. “It’s okay, Harry. I must have left it there last night, although I don’t remember that.”_ _

__Harry accidentally poured way too much batter into one of the muffin tin slots because he was looking at Macy in her t-shirt and short shorts, his eyes flicking over her pretty face and the curves of her figure before he realized what he was doing._ _

__“You’re, um, you’re overflowing,” Macy said, wide-eyed, nodding to the batter._ _

__“Oh! So I am,” Harry answered with a laugh. His gaze was back on her more thoughtfully as he added in a quiet tone that sent a shiver down her spine, “so I am.”_ _

__“Did I just hear your phone buzz?” Maggie asked casually, not looking up from her issue of Cosmo. “You must be getting a text.”_ _

__Macy shrugged, giving Harry a sheepish smile as he hovered near her. She flicked her phone screen open, only to see a tiny burst of green magic energy wafting from it. “Hey, what’s--”_ _

__Within the next instant, she and Harry had disappeared from the kitchen and reappeared somewhere totally new._ _

__“--that?” Macy finished, looking from Harry’s aghast expression to the unfamiliar coffee shop where they now stood._ _

__“Harry, that wasn’t you, was it?”_ _

__“No, I didn’t teleport us. I haven’t the slightest clue how we arrived here, or indeed where _here_ is.”_ _

__Macy’s eyes tracked investigatively over the adorably kitschy shop where hipsters either hunched over laptops, fingers flying over keys, or quietly socialized, each with a cup of fancy artisan coffee or tea in front of them._ _

__“‘Friends to Lovers Cafe?’” she read aloud from the various flyers and menus on the walls._ _

__The place boasted an enormous selection of organic coffee beans, frothy chais and homemade charcuterie plates, fresh jam and all. “ _Open 24 hours!_ ” one poster excitedly announced, the scrolling green words placed above a series of pictures showing couples canoodling with coffees between them, kissing cheeks and holding hands across the tables. _ _

__“I’ve never seen this place in my life,” Harry remarked, “I’m not even sure we’re in Hilltowne anymore.”_ _

__Just then, a tired-looking barista wearing a trendily bushy beard and a flannel shirt walked up to Macy, saying in annoyance, “You’re late, again. I’m not gonna tell Juniper, but if you keep pulling this stuff, I can’t promise I’ll continue to cover for you.” He rolled his eyes as Macy just stared at him completely perplexed._ _

__“What’s your deal, anyway?” the barista asked. “Come on, your shift started fifteen minutes ago. The open-mic poetry reading’s starting soon.”_ _

__“I’m sorry, uh...Beckett,” Macy replied, taking a quick look at his name tag, “but I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,”_ _

__“I don’t have time for this shit.” Beckett went behind the counter and retrieved an apron, which had been fashioned to look like denim farmer’s overalls. The coffee shop’s logo was emblazoned on the front. “Here. See you tomorrow.”_ _

__“But--” Macy called after him, the apron lying limp in her fingers. Then the puzzle pieces started falling into place in her mind. “Wait a minute. Harry, your clothes changed.”_ _

__He glanced down at his ripped jeans, tight white t-shirt and battered leather jacket in disdain. “I should say so. I look like I wandered out of the clearance section of a Hot Topic. And you! Macy, you’re wearing, um, well…”_ _

__She looked down at herself, her cheeks getting hot at the sight of her sexy, midriff-baring strappy peach tank top and bright, floral-patterned mini-skirt that barely covered her thighs._ _

__The way Harry looked at her made Macy feel tingly all over, and he _definitely_ pulled off that rocker look way better than anyone might guess. Did those jeans have to fit him quite that perfectly? _ _

__Embarrassed by the way her thoughts were off on a runaway train to Lust-town, Macy hurried to put her apron on and cover up her ridiculously revealing outfit._ _

__As soon as she tied the apron and saw the name tag, everything made sense. Insane, annoying, infuriating sense. “Maggie,” she seethed._ _

__“What?”_ _

__“Maggie did this,” Macy explained, pointing around them. “Look, Harry, all the clues are there. ‘Friends to Lovers’ coffee shop?”_ _

__“I don’t understand,” Harry admitted, putting his hand in his pocket and pulling out a handful of guitar picks. “What in the world…” He put them away and rubbed his attractively stubbled jaw, blinking slowly. “It feels like I haven’t shaved in days, and...my _eyes_ sting.”_ _

__His beautiful blue-grey eyes were bloodshot. Macy gave a shaky, angry exhale. Of course they were. The soft, gentle strains of Colbie Caillat’s “Realize” played over the speakers via satellite radio._ _

__Of course it did._ _

__“You’re a washed-up, formerly brilliant rock star who’s wandered into a 24-hour coffee shop because you’re in the middle of nowhere rebounding from a bender and you don’t know where else to go. And I’m a quirkily adorable barista, probably working here to help put some younger sibling through private school even though I never got to pursue my own dreams of going to college.” Macy spoke quickly, reeling the facts off the top of her head as if this should all be obvious._ _

__“Even supposing that’s true, well...why, Macy? Where in blazes are we?”_ _

__“My name is Mary Sue,” Macy elaborated irritably, pointing to her name tag, “Because I’m the O.C. in this story. It’s a coffee shop AU, and we’re trapped in a fanfiction, Harry.”_ _


	2. Mutual Pining

“But I don’t understand,” Harry said as he took a sip of tea, sitting with Macy in the Friends to Lovers Cafe, “Why is there always only one bed?”

Macy laughed despite the insane situation they were in. His reaction to her quick overview of fanfic tropes was just as baffled as his initial views on _Heaven’s Vice._

“There just aren’t enough beds, Harry; there never are, and people love it.” She nursed her mug of hot chai between her nervous hands, the continual eye contact with Harry leaving her buzzing more than caffeine ever could. “If we’re starting off with all these typical aspects of the Coffee Shop AU, chances are we can escape this reality and get back to the normal world by going through the paces, seeing the plot points through until we’re at the end of the story. You know, we’ll just live a version of it where the Friends...stay Friends, instead of eventually becoming…”

“Lovers,” Harry finished, doing his best not to look disappointed and failing miserably. 

If only he knew how the sound of his rich voice wrapped around that word lit her on fire, setting off a thousand visions which she had to smile through as best she could. This didn’t quite seem like the right moment to scramble over the table, grab his collar and kiss him until they both saw stars, but it was all she wanted to do.

“Mmm...mmmhmm,” she managed, drinking her chai oblivious to the thin layer of foam it left on her upper lip.

“You uh, have a little,” Harry said, pointing to his own mouth, which only further flummoxed Macy, since she couldn’t stop thinking about his lips at the moment.

“Huh?” She blinked confusedly.

“Oh, here you go…” he leaned forward and dabbed her lip with his napkin, and _how could he not notice the fact that she’d broken out into a light sweat in this perfectly air-conditioned cafe?_

“Well,” he resumed casually enough, “That plan sounds doable, if a little absurd in execution. After all, I’m nothing like this rebellious, tormented rock star character I’ve been cast to play. He couldn’t be more the opposite of me, really.”

“You sound...almost like you wish that wasn’t true, like you wish you could be more like this fictional other guy.” Macy took a chunk of raspberry muffin off her plate and popped it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. Wow, it was the best muffin she’d ever had, just like this was the most satisfying latte she’d sipped in her life. 

Harry sat back in his chair, looking uncomfortable, as if her comment had hit a nerve. “Perhaps I do wish I was more like him...moody, rough around the edges, but with the capacity to impress at any moment due to my amazing artistic abilities. He does sound comparatively exciting.” He shrugged, frustration etching his face as Macy watched in total surprise.

“I’m just a regular man who lived an ordinary life, died young, and became an assistant to witches. My job is to stand on the sidelines and sometimes render help when other, more interesting and heroic people, run into crisis. This character, this Rock Star AU Harry, he may be a cheesy, overused, Bradley Cooper cliche, but at least he’s capable of being fascinating.” _Fascinating to someone like you._ He didn’t speak that last part aloud, but it was obvious.

She dropped the plumply perfect muffin back onto the plate, staring at him aghast that he could possibly think these things about himself. There was also something so incredibly intimate about him letting her in like this, dropping his guard and allowing emotions to roll from his tongue heedless of consequence. Part of her was treasuring the simple fact of his honesty, but he only saw her alarm at his self-deprecating attitude.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, Macy. Don’t know what’s wrong with me today…” He took another sip of tea and cast an wary glance around the cafe with its shabby chic wood tables and rosy-pink lighting, all the couples around them staring adoringly into each others’ eyes. “It must be...this _place_.

Admittedly, sitting in this cafe without a lover was worse than being single on Valentines’ Day: every aspect of the environment smacked you in the face with the reminder of what it looked like to be happily in love, and then you kind of just wanted to scream, or choke to death on FOMO.

And this was usually such a sweet, harmlessly sappy, predictable AU.

Macy took Harry’s hand across the table and he looked at her as if she’d given him an electric shock. His eyes were bright with barely repressed emotion, his thumb automatically stroking her fingers, a tiny indulgence he allowed himself, until she felt a ripple of arousal dancing through her whole body.

“I just don’t understand how you could think that about yourself, Harry. You’re a hero, and believe me, you’re plenty fascinating.” Talk about an understatement!

He gave her a cynically doubtful smile. “Come now, Macy, you don’t have to try and prop up my insecure ego. I’ll get over being ordinary and basic, probably a lot sooner than I’ll forgive myself for giving into this embarrassing tangent and taking up your time with it.”

Macy’s hand tightened around his with a reassuring squeeze. “I’m not letting you off the hook like that, Harry. And I definitely don’t ever want you to regret opening up to me. Don’t you know I’m always here for you? I’m so sorry if it hasn’t seemed that way, lately...I’ve been going through some things ever since the Source…”

“And ever since I damaged our friendship by not being able to stop thinking about kissing you,” Harry finished. “You haven’t looked at me the same since you found out.”

Macy’s heart jumped, the feeling of adrenaline, excitement and suspense inside her almost painful. He was talking about _it_ , the thing which at his request they were supposedly going to pretend never happened! Finally, they could address this head-on.

“No, I haven’t,” she admitted softly, and he withdrew his hand as if he thought the gesture was merely a pity move on her part. 

“I don’t want you to have to deal with me acting like a moonstruck teenaged idiot everytime we’re together, so I promise I will get a better hold of myself. I want us to be able to be what we were before...I don’t want to lose that, or lose you, Macy.”

Could he seriously be this clueless about how she felt? Macy realized he must have been replaying their encounters and overthinking every detail until he went nuts, just as she had been doing lately. 

She wanted to tell him the truth, but the truth was so enormous...where should she begin?

“Harry, you’re never going to lose me. Can’t you see, I’m right here for you? I always will be, no matter what else is going on--”

“Please, Macy, don’t. You’re only here because you’re forced to be here, because Maggie contrived this whole scenario thinking it would make us happy.” He crumpled a napkin, avoiding Macy’s eyes. “She simply has no idea how wrong she was on that count.”

“Harry, that's not--”

“This really works much better as a monologue, Macy,” he continued with a pained smile, referencing his cute remark from the first time he explained the sister’s heritage to them. Even then, that first night in the attic, waking up tied to a chair and hearing this insane British guy going on and on about powers and forces she’d never believed existed, Macy had noticed it, how attractive he was, how alluring, how ridiculous and adorable. Over time, she’d noticed much more, though she absorbed the observations quietly, storing them up in her damaged heart where she knew they’d stay safe. She’d watched Harry put his life on the line to protect his charges, over and over, seen him pick them up when they fell down and restore their hopes when they were wrecked by disillusionment.

Macy had watched Harry and waited, waited to be brave enough to do something about the pure, sunny way he smiled when he solved a difficult conundrum, the warmth of his hugs when he comforted the sisters, or that naughty teasing glimmer in his eyes when he flirted with her, just a tiny bit, as much as his gentlemanly restraint would allow. It suggested there was so much passion, so much desire under the surface of his decorous exterior, and Macy wanted it all, finally wanted to give in and feel everything with him she’d been running from.

“Perhaps if I was more like this Rock Star fellow, you’d see me differently. We could...I mean, maybe if I was more like...never mind, I’m being a passive-aggressive lout.” Harry sighed in aggravation. “Let’s just leave this whole topic alone and get through this nonsensical fanfiction scenario so you can get back to your real life.”

“You mean, maybe if you were more like Galvin?” Macy asked, shaking her head as the understanding knocked her over like a tidal wave. 

Suddenly she saw what she’d been trying not to face months earlier: Harry had envied Galvin. Despite his cool, debonair attitude and near-flawless ability to seem impervious to such human weakness, Harry still was. Envious, jealous of Galvin, and guilty for feeling that way.

Harry ran a hand over his hair and cupped the back of his neck, pressing his lips together for a moment of tense contemplation. “Well, seeing as I’ve blathered on this far, may as well admit it. Yes, Macy. I wonder if I was more like him, things might be different between us, but I can’t be. For heaven’s sake, I can’t believe I’m telling you all this...I don’t even know if I’m having an early or extremely belated midlife crisis.”

“Harry, I loved Galvin, I did,” Macy said firmly, making him give a dejected nod. “No, you wait a minute, hear me out.” Harry returned his sad, rueful eyes to her face and she felt her mouth going dry, grief and hope and love and regret mingling all together until she couldn’t separate them out or understand how they left her smothered in fear. 

“I loved Galvin, and I respect what he did in the end, I’m even grateful to him because he really did save so many lives, ours included, and yes, I miss him, but...we also had a lot of problems in our relationship. Galvin also did things that really hurt me, things I haven’t quite fully processed...I think it’s something about the way my baggage always seemed to weigh him down. He was just so exhausted by my idiosyncrasies, freaked out that I was a virgin, frightened by my demon side...I hated the version of me I saw through his eyes. I started to hate the way I felt when we were together, but....by the time he died everything had just happened so quickly I never got a moment to breathe and fully understand that I didn’t want to be with him anymore, or why. Why that love was bad for me.”

“Macy, everything about you is beautiful, and you never should have had to doubt that for a moment,” Harry said definitively. 

“You see me differently. You treat me differently. And if you think I haven’t noticed that, or felt that, you haven’t been paying attention either. Harry, I see you. Don’t ever tell me again you’re not a hero because I know better. There have been days I could have easily collapsed into my own darkness, just given up on myself, but you would never let me. I’ve felt your love, and it’s changed me.” 

Macy felt her breath heaving hard and fast, her tear-glazed eyes huge as Harry watched her in disbelief. His throat bobbed and his hand was back in hers as he brought his other hand around to fully encompass her fingers in his strong, warm touch. 

“Macy, I need you to know, even if it’s the last time I ever say it, or burden you with this truth, I…”

Harry’s confession was cut off by a teenaged girl who had been waiting at the abandoned counter for several minutes while he and Macy conversed, ignoring the roles they were meant to be playing.

“Um, excuse me, Mary Sue,” the girl snipped, peering down her enormous glasses at Macy’s nametag. She straightened out the brown vest she wore over a red plaid shirt, huffing self-importantly, “I need a triple expresso, my boyfriend Salinger needs a Mango-Dragonfruit Frappe, and you need to do your flipping _job_. I mean, what is this? You can’t just sit around--” 

Macy rolled her eyes and began making some lame excuse, ready to go over and pretend she knew how to make these drinks. After all, if they were going to ace this Coffee Shop AU, she had to pretend she really was Mary Sue. 

Then the girl noticed Harry more fully, and let out an earsplitting scream. “Oh my God!” she shrieked, “Salinger! Look who it is! Are you Hartley Gallagher, are you really Hartley Gallagher?”

Meanwhile, the quietly sincere fiftysomething guy who’d been midway through a haiku on the small stage before them startled in surprise. “Really?” he said into the microphone, “Hartley Gallagher is here?”

“Ehmagawd, ehmagawd, I’m having a total system meltdown, I just can’t believe it!” the teenaged girl squealed, hopping up and down, hands clasped together as she gazed at Harry as if he was Harry _Styles_.

Macy looked on with wry amusement as Harry dealt with the sudden deluge of attention, couples all around them getting out of their chairs and congregating around him, giving him napkins to sign and taking selfies with their phones to capture this celebrity encounter. One woman even wanted him to sign her arm so she could have his signature tattooed, and his sensible reproach fell on deaf ears.

“No, please, really, everyone, I’m not so wonderful and interesting, I’m just having a tea with my friend here, but I so appreciate your kindness,” Harry babbled, overwhelmed, his already sore eyes stinging from the camera flashes.

“Rowen, you should get him to go up and sing something,” Salinger declared, telling the others proudly, “Watch this, my girl could convince a snail to sell his shell. No one can say no to her!”

“Please,” Rowen begged with an exaggerated pout. Everyone around them added their voices to the plea, leading to a cacophony of song requests and encouragement to get back out there and believe in himself again which suggested “Hartley Gallagher’s” recent fall from grace and off the wagon had been well-publicized.

“Oh, really now, I couldn’t, I don’t have anything prepared,” Harry reasoned, shrinking back, looking like he wanted to disappear into his chair. 

“I think you should go up there,” Macy prompted mischievously, and he shot her a deadly glare.

“I don’t even have my guitar,” Harry said loudly and mechanically, “So I couldn’t possibly perform.”

“Oh, no worries, man,” said a stoned-looking hipster who went back to his table to retrieve a guitar case. “You can use mine!”

“Pleaaaaassseeee,” Rowen said again, her eyes as big as an anime heroine, and the others all started to chant, “Hart-ley, Hart-ley, Hart-ley…”

“Don’t you start,” Harry muttered to Macy, but she laughed and joined in with the others: 

“Hart-ley, Hart-ley, Hart-ley…”

After all, Macy reasoned, maybe it was about damn time the two of them lightened up about this whole thing and had a little fun. They cared for each other so much -- what was the point of sustaining the pained distance between them? It made more sense to coast along with the adventure, see where it led.

“Macy, you don’t understand, I can’t sing,” Harry claimed. “If my shower was a sentient being, it would have kicked me out the very first time I burst into song...and I don’t know how to play the bloody guitar.” 

“I think you need to do this so we can get through the Coffee Shop AU,” Macy urged with a sweetly affectionate smile. “Terrible singing voice and guitar playing and all.”

“Oh, very well,” he groaned, whipping off his jacket, leaving it on the chair, and heading to the stage as the small crowd cheered. Macy had never seen his face quite that red, but she clapped harder than ever to encourage him as he took up position on the stool beneath the spotlight and cradled the guitar in his lap.

“I still want that triple expresso,” Rowen muttered to Macy, who sighed and went behind the counter, examining all the different high-tech, shiny coffee machines. Which one of these made expresso?

Then, as if the instinct had always been inside her, Macy flew into action, capably concocting the perfect expressio, right down to a decorative heart design in the foam.

“Hey, this is crazy, I can’t believe it,” she murmured, pleased as she realized that while she inhabited the role of Mary Sue, she also possessed the character’s special skills.

At the same moment this fully dawned on her, Macy heard the familiar strums of an Ed Sheeran ballad being played capably...confidently...perfectly, and the sound of a huskily sexy, eloquently in-tune British voice falling over the swoon-worthy lyrics. 

“ _She is the sweetest thing that I know  
You should see the way she holds me when the lights go low…_”

Macy’s lips parted in enamored astonishment as she met his eyes, the distance between the barista workspace and the stage seeming as nonexistent as every other person in the room. Her hands were busy, effortlessly preparing a mango-dragonfruit smoothie for Salinger, but Macy could only drag her eyes from Harry with massive effort. He was singing this song for her...there couldn’t be any doubt by the look on his face.

“ _every night I'll kiss you you'll say in my ear, Oh we're in love aren't we? Hands in your hair, fingers and thumbs baby, I feel safe when you're holding me near, Love the way that you conquer your fear, You know hearts don't break around here, Oh yeah yeah yeah_...”

Macy handed drink after drink off to happy patrons as she watched Harry with baited breath, living off of his every word. Then she knew it had never been the immensity of how he felt that had scared her...it was the way it made her feel in return, what it awakened inside of her that had always been there, right from the start, whispering into her skull, tugging her heartstrings until she could never settle down and find peace. Not without him, never without him. By denying her feelings, she’d tried to bypass them to find the safety that was impossible anywhere else but in their mutual surrender.

Harry got more and more self-assured as the song ran on, fingers cleverly moving along his instrument as the combination of his voice, his unfairly gorgeous face so filled with devotion, and that damn outfit made her blissfully delirious. His firm biceps flexed beguilingly as he played, the blue jeans hugging his hips and legs as if they loved his body as much as she did. 

“That boy is absolutely bonkers over you, dearie,” an elderly lady remarked as Macy served her a chamomile tea. “Believe me, I’ve been married to my Nigel for forty-two years, and I know that look when I see it.”

Macy just gave her a frozen smile as Harry finished the last note of the song and everyone applauded rapturously.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s only love...it only wants to save you. You don’t have to be so afraid of it.” The lady patted Macy’s hand and she felt suddenly dizzy.

What if that was true? God, was the oxygen in this place spiked with some narcotic that made Harry into an expert guitarist, her into the world’s best barista, and her greatest misgivings into euphoric possibilities?

“Uh, thanks,” she said distractedly, and when Harry came over to her, she grinned like the lovestruck fool she was, grinned so hard her cheeks ached. 

“Harry, that was beautiful.”

“Hmm, well, I’m fairly certain I had a substantial assist from Fanfiction-land,” he theorized archly. “I had the distinct taste of autotune in my mouth. But still, I’m, um, I’m happy you enjoyed it.” 

Her grin relaxed into a soft, inviting smile, but then another irresistible instinct struck her body out of nowhere: she yawned, her bones suddenly seeming achy like she’d been on her feet all day. Well, Mary Sue probably worked a day job in addition to the graveyard shift at the cafe...for all Macy knew, there were multiple students to put through posh schools.

“I feel so tired all of a sudden,” she mused, “I think we’re going to need to find a place to crash for the night. Now, you are probably a homeless drifter at this stage in the game, so we’ll have to figure out where Mary Sue lives.”

“You rent the apartment upstairs, silly, and why are you referring to yourself in the third person?” A curvy twenty-something girl with bright blue hair tucked into a red kerchief came behind the counter and put on an apron with a nametag reading “Clover.”

“Hey, Clover!” Macy greeted breezily, as if she’d known the girl for ages. 

“You’re getting really good at playing Mary Sue,” Harry murmured and she laughed, looking forward to the chance to show him exactly how real this all felt to her, how she’d felt that song in her heart. 

Fanfiction-land was making her reckless, and she was starting to enjoy the sensation, like riding down a huge hill the first time she had the training wheels off her bike. All that repression was opening up into such beautiful possibility that the danger seemed utterly insignificant.

“Yeah, well, it’s easy to be Mary Sue because everything gets handed to her on a silver platter. Even her humble beginnings make her endearing. Everyone she meets immediately loves her. I could probably win the Hunger Games or end a vampire-werewolf war like that right now.” She snapped her fingers to illustrate her point.

“Mary Sue, is it some kind of social experiment, the whole third person thing?” Clover took a tray of fresh sugar cookies out of the oven, her attention shifting to Harry. “Hey, aren’t you that famous singer who just got out of rehab? You sing the one that’s all like, ‘Don’t worry love, it’ll be alriiiiggghhhht!'” Clover warbled out the tune like it was popular enough to be on the tip of anyone’s tongue.

“No experiments here!” Macy replied, “And actually, Hartley is looking for a place to stay, so I thought I could help him out.”

“Perfect, you’ve been looking for a someone to rent the spare room to ever since Anais moved out,” Clover observed as she stirred up the frosting for the cookies. 

“Well, I was going to stay at a hotel, given that I’m an extravagantly wealthy celebrity, but lately I’ve been craving a return to the simplicity of an anonymous and humble life,” Harry explained, hamming it up with a saintly attitude.

“Cool!” Clover affirmed as if this was a totally normal thing for him to say. “Why don’t you show him the room, Mary Sue, help him get settled in? I can take it from here; I’ll call you if we get a rush, but you know things usually die down after the midnight reading.”

Midnight? Jeez, Macy realized, time passed quickly here, like it was pushing you along to hit certain key plot points.

“Right, I’ll just, um, show you the room, Hartley,” Macy agreed, walking to the nearest door that wasn’t the exit to the street.

“That’s a broom closet,” Clover piped up. “The door to upstairs is over there, space cadet.” She whistled and said softly as Macy passed her, “Wow, you must really have it bad for this guy.”

“I guess so,” she winked, heading through the correct door with Harry close behind.

“I think we’ve officially graduated to the next phase of this fanfiction, Harry,” Macy announced proudly, offering him a high five as they entered the cutely snug apartment made fetchingly messy by the many easels and canvases crammed anywhere they would fit. 

Naturally, Mary Sue was a fabulously talented, yet completely humble and unassuming artist just waiting with angelic optimism for true love and a twist of fate to lead to her overnight success.

Cheesy and predictable or not, Macy had to admit she would read the shit out of this story. 

Harry returned the high five, but had no idea what they were supposed to be celebrating. “How do you know? I mean, we’re still technically in the coffee shop, Macy.”

“That’s true,” Macy confirmed, “but we’re something else now, too, Harry, don’t you see? We’re _roommates_!”


	3. Fluff and Angst

Macy woke with a start the next morning, disoriented as her woozy eyes took in the sight of Mary Sue’s apartment. Before the memory of what had happened yesterday fully returned to her sleepy mind, she felt a brief flicker of fear at the strangeness of the moment, at the feel of the scratchy cushions on the burnt orange couch where she’d fallen asleep talking to Harry about anything and everything until almost dawn.

He was still sitting there on the floor with his back against the couch, his head tilted back, eyes closed, breaths coming slow and even. They hadn’t meant to fall asleep like this; it must have happened mid-sentence, somewhere between her poking fun at his habitual reminders that honey was a natural cure-all that should be integrated into everyone’s diet, and their realization that they were both totally obsessed with sea salt dark chocolate squares. Before that, they’d talked about their pasts, Macy the parts of her childhood and teen years she remembered with buoyant joy or aches of sadness; Harry, the aches where his memories used to be, then the long and often thankless saga that comprised the life of a whitelighter.

“It _was_ thankless, and rather bleak at that, me always running into a brick wall whenever the morally right thing to do ruffled the Elder’s stodgy little feathers, or losing people I cared about...like Fiona and Charity, just losing them into their own darkness as if my guidance or friendship, or even my love couldn’t tempt them away from the lure of evil. After a while, I was so sure I must be doing something wrong. I was the common denominator in all these catastrophic failures, so it had to be me, right?”

Macy had reached her hand down to pat his shoulder in consolation, murmuring, “Harry, no.” He’d given her hand a slow, sweet caress, then pulled away as if to do so hurt him as much as it did her. 

“But there are times when I’m helping you and your sisters, and I think...I could still be useful. I could still make a difference in the battles you face, the ones that lie ahead of you...there are times I look at _you_ , Macy, and I think perhaps all love doesn’t have to be wasted.”

Harry had looked up at her then, and Macy had stroked his hair back from his brow, playing with the pretty brown tendrils dreamily as he just...sat there, absorbing her touch, feeling the universe of possibility inside and between them. 

She’d been left speechless by his words, left to turn them over and over in her mind until she could somehow believe that a man so sweet, so noble, so unforgettably special could truly be here with her, offering his heart freely, not expecting anything in return. 

“Honeysuckle,” Harry had murmured, eyes closed, as if her caress soothed the rampant thudding of his rebelliously hopeful heart. “You always smell of honeysuckle and roses.”

“Honeysuckle shampoo,” she’d clarified wryly, though her heart thundered, the beating reverberating through her body, then gathering tightly at her center. “And rose-lavender lotion.”

 _Non_ -coincidentally, Mary Sue had the same items stocked in her apartment, which Macy had discovered to her pleasant surprise earlier when she’d gotten cleaned up and changed into a pair of her fanfiction OC self’s cozy bunny-print pj’s. She’d been amused to see that she and her fictional doppelganger did share some things in common aside from being hopelessly romantic and too stubborn to admit it. Poor Harry had to make do with Hartley’s same pair of ripped blue jeans and Mary Sue’s oversized Wilco t-shirt, which on him fit quite snugly, to distractingly flattering perfection, in fact.

“You know,” he’d reminded her with that self-congratulatory smirk he wore when dispensing timeless wisdom to his charges, “Honey is the number one most effective natural curative.”

Macy’s smile had been gentle and a little sad then, realizing that his smugly know-it-all manner was often just a facade thrown over his stormy inner struggle. He’d just opened up to her again, big-time, and here he was changing the subject to something safe before she had enough time to even process her feelings and properly respond. She kept trying to gather the jagged shards of her thoughts up to respond the way he deserved, wrap words around the longing he evoked from her with every moment they spent together. It was worth it, to maybe cut herself on the sharp edge of desire, want, and the knowledge that all love was most likely doomed. But how to think past the intimidating hugeness of this emotion, past the grief over Galvin, the regret at staying in that bad relationship with her ex too long, over the fear that in loving Harry, she might wreck their friendship and lose him, too? 

The words of a T.S. Eliot poem she’d read in school years ago came washing back over her mind like a salt-worn wave, sloughing back the layers of her insecurity and doubt: _“How should I presume?”_

She was overthinking it again, and in the interim of that overthinking pause, he’d moved on assuming this was what she’d prefer. He was protecting Macy from having to deal with his love for her, protecting himself from having to hear she didn’t return his feelings.

He felt safer in his coy expert mode, keeping the conversation light again, and she knew how it felt to want to be safe when vulnerability was terrifying. If there was anything in this life she knew about, it was definitely _that._ So for now, she’d let him go back into hiding, but she knew soon she needed to overcome her own fears fully, give into this craving to be as close to him as she possibly could, maybe even never let go again. 

For now, she’d quirked a teasing smile and answered, “Better than Vitamin C?”

The bittersweet interlude of that night hovered in her mind now as she watched his adorable morning face, so innocent and free from anxiety. Maybe that’s what this place could be for both of them: a chance to take a long enough getaway together to really connect. Maybe, just maybe, she admitted to herself, Maggie had been right to send them here. 

This realization made her chuckle, and the low, husky laugh woke Harry, his lashes fluttering as he gave a soft moan rousing back to consciousness, sending that wickedly delirious shimmer of pleasure through Macy’s body again until her cheeks heated up and she cleared her throat, sitting up straighter. Hearing that moan fall from his tempting lips made it impossible not to think of other ways she could make him moan..louder...

“G-good, um, good morning,” she said, all flustered, and he gave her the smirk again, but there was a mischievously suggestive look to it this time.

“Good morning to you, too. You’re looking at me like that again. Like you did at the graveyard, the day we decided never to talk about what you heard in my thoughts.” 

_Fuuuuuuck._ Why was he so sexy in the morning, and even sexier when he was cocky with her?

“Uhhhmmm, looking at you like, uh, like what?”

“Like you’re thinking the same thing I was.” Harry reached up to frame her cheek in the soft curve of his hand, his thumb reaching slowly for her lips, as if to give her time to stop him if she wanted to. 

Macy felt slightly dizzy and the floaty feeling cascaded over her senses until all she could see or feel or hear was Harry, the fresh minty scent of the soap they’d both used to shower in Mary Sue’s bathroom wafting gently from his skin the closer he got. 

“Like I can’t stop thinking about it either,” she admitted shakily, and the light in his eyes shifted, the sweet surprise of her statement making him melt into a breathtakingly sincere smile.

“Macy,” he sighed, leaning up to her and tilting his face just so, the perfect angle to take a kiss that would be far from stolen.

But just then, a loud knock sounded at Mary Sue’s door, making them both jump practically out of their skin.

“Mary Sue!” Clover called with affectionate concern, “You’d better get a move on if you’re gonna make it to the baking competition over at town hall. It’s ten am already, and I thought you said it starts at 11!”

“Right,” Macy whispered, realizing she’d fallen back into Harry’s eyes. She shivered and said with greater enthusiasm, “I mean, hell yeah, I’ll be heading right over to town hall because I’m gonna crush that baking contest!”

Harry’s brow furrowed as he stood and offered his hand to help her up, too. “Does it not seem bizarre to you that everytime we start talking about our feelings, or leaning close to each other, someone interrupts us?”

“Romcom trope, common enough in a fluff fic,” Macy sighed. “Don’t worry, the pattern is just there to be funny while building up the tension between us until we inevitably get together. You know, I mean, that’s the standard plot for this AU.”

“Oh, right,” Harry said, too casually, “Of course.” God, he was cute when he blushed. She wanted to tear his clothes off and put her mouth on every inch of his body, and it was probably getting more and more obvious from her expressions and body language.

Maybe the interruptions actually _were_ helping to ramp up the sexual tension between them! Yet another reason to keep going with the flow of the story, Macy decided with a sly smile.

Macy got dressed, then they headed downstairs, through the thick morning crowd at the cafe, and out onto the sun-dappled sidewalk of a perfect summer day. Endearingly twee independent stores and eating places dotted the street on either side, alternating between baby clothes, wedding dresses, a bar that was a little too clean, and an old-fashioned diner. 

“Wait a minute,” Macy breathed in amazement, looking all around until her eyes landed on a big white gazebo in the middle of town square. The grass was a screamingly verdant green, fresh flowers blooming brightly fragrant all around the pretty pavillion, but though the view fit ideally to a summer dream now, she would know it just as well doused in gorgeously vibrant autumn leaves or coated in winter snow that almost glittered, draped in Christmas lights. “I know this place!”

She’d spent more time here than almost any other fictional setting, but Harry again blinked at her in bewilderment. “It’s a charming little town, isn’t it?”

“The _most_ charming, Harry, just look at it!” Macy took his hand and they walked over to the gazebo where so many hearts had been won, broken, and earned back in epic kisses. “God, Luke and Lorelai got married here!”

“Who?” Harry inquired with an attentive smile, looking rather pleased at the way they were walking around hand-in-hand like a couple. He was also unable to take his eyes off of her in that gauzy red, floral-print, tie-front sundress. The thin, soft fabric skimmed her curves and blew gently in the light breeze, and he kept on looking at her as if her beauty challenged his ability to believe she was real.

“This is the quintessential quirky small town,” she elaborated, gazing around in wonderment at the exquisite cerulean sky and clouds so fluffy they could only belong in a fic this sweet.

“It’s the town where almost every Hallmark movie takes place, plus Gilmore Girls, One Tree Hill, Hart of Dixie, Dawson’s Creek -- no one can help exchanging pretentiously witty repartee until they fall in love when they’re here!”

“I think you’re right about that end result,” he smiled shyly, and their eyes locked until he noticed something over her shoulder.

“There’s town hall, and I think your ‘friend’ Clover was correct that time is of the essence...I’ve never seen people quite so overloaded with baking supplies.”

Macy followed his gaze to the large procession of contest participants heaving bags and boxes of flour, chocolate chips, eggs and berries up the steps of Town Hall.

“C’mon, let’s go,” said Macy with bubbly determination, and they followed everyone else into the building where she finally, regretfully dropped Harry’s hand.

“Oh, what a treat!” a round-faced blonde lady enthused, descending immediately upon Macy. “Mary Sue, I hoped you’d make it! See, all that worry about not being able to compete because you’re single, and here you are with a handsome man on your arm!

“Yes, he is very handsome,” Macy answered with an awkward laugh, as if this particular fact hadn't been relentlessly torturing her of late. “Hartley, I’d like to introduce you to my very good friend, umm…”

“Rebecca!” the woman put in eagerly, shaking Harry’s hand, noting his artfully distressed jeans, stubbled face, and the sensuous way he couldn’t stop looking at Macy. 

“Oh, my, Mary Sue, he’s got a look about him like he’s Trouble with a capital “T” but a gentleman besides -- you know, not everyone can strike that balance, but your boyfriend here has it down to an art. Keep an eye on him, though...the bad boys can be tricky.” With a grin at Harry, Rebecca added, “Oh, no offense, honey.”

“Uh,” Macy compensated with a laugh, all too aware of Harry’s eyes on her, “He’s not my, I mean he isn’t...we’re not…”

“Why thank you, Rebecca,” Harry said smoothly, having glanced at the sign hanging over the front entranceway they’d just come in by, lending him a new understanding of the scenario. 

" _Applebury's Annual Couples Bake-off!_ " 

He nodded at the banner until Macy noticed it, too, and then he continued his exuberant speech to Rebecca: “I’m so lucky to have an incomparably stunning, brilliant, brave woman like Mary Sue as my girlfriend. Don’t you worry, I intend to take very good care of her.” He slung a warm, strong arm around her shoulders, kissing her forehead, his stubble grazing her skin.

 _Holy shit_ , Macy thought, trying her best not to dissolve into a puddle of gelatinous lust-goo on the floor. The idea of all the ways Harry could “take care” of her was even more delicious than any decadent treat this bake-off would produce.

“That’s what I like to hear!” Rebecca cooed, “Now, your table is all ready for you, sweetie, I got out all the ingredients you left in the fridge yesterday.”

“Perfect,” Macy affirmed, linking arms with Harry and tugging him gently in that direction, “Alright, baby, let’s get started.”

“Good luck!” Rebecca called as they disappeared into the throngs of dessert-obsessed couples, each one laboring over a different sweet dish, cracking eggs, mixing batter, sprinkling white chocolate shavings, and sliding trays into one of the five ovens lined up against the back wall.

“Here we go, darling,” Harry announced with a wink as they arrived at their table, and she felt her legs going a bit wobbly.

“Welcome to our Fake Dating plotline,” she told him excitedly, “We did it, Harry, we advanced to the next stage of the fic!”

“Really, Fake Dating? Why do people assume that given the right set of extremely contrived, saccharine tropes, two people will just fall automatically in love?” He grabbed an apron from the back of a nearby chair and slung it on, a teasing sparkle in his eyes.

“I thought you agreed that no one could help falling in love in a place like this,” she countered, trying to maintain some minuscule remnant of composure as he helped to put her apron on, reaching his hands around her waist to tie it neatly behind her, lingering in the act.

“I’m perfectly capable of being just friends with you, Macy, despite our opposites-attract meet-cute at the coffee shop, despite the ridiculously adorable gazebo and the perfect weather, the way we’re surrounded by delightfully eccentric and meddling townspeople, and even despite having to pose as a couple to win this bake-off.” He slid his hand up her back, moving her closer to him as she cast him a helpless gaze, her heart lodged in her throat.

“I can see that,” she murmured, daring to rest her fingers on his upper arm, stroking in exploratory circles over his firm bicep until he gave a ragged sigh.

“If I lean in to kiss you right now," he muttered, "we’ll probably be--”

“Oh, come on you two lovebirds, you better get baking or Atticus and Olive will take the blue ribbon again!” Rebecca crowed out as she passed by, making the “fake” couple laugh in soft acceptance of the absurd situation.

“Ah, right,” he noted, releasing Macy and looking over at their supplies. “Looks like we have a few different potential recipe options here. You know, I make a mean chocolate tart.”

“And _I_ make an amazing strawberry cheesecake,” Macy grinned, “But look at everything else we’ve got here, there’s mascarpone, hazelnuts--wait, that’s it!”

She clapped her hands together in gleefully triumphant inspiration as she and Harry cried out in unison, “Strawberry-Mascarpone-Hazelnut Chocolate Tart!”

They prepared the dessert together, working in an almost completely synced rhythm, concocting a cookie dough crust and baking it golden brown before filling the yummy shell with luxurious creamy cheese, then decoratively circled, red-ripe strawberry slices and a drizzle of hazelnut spread as the finishing touch.

“Wow, this looks fantastic,” Macy beamed, and Harry nodded, chin in hand as if he was carefully pondering something.

“Hmm, yes, well, hopefully it’s as scrumptious as my desserts usually come out..it certainly looks like it would melt in your mouth.”

Dammit, his flirtation game was on point, and now she wanted him to take her right here on this chocolate and strawberry-littered table. Images of the mess they would make together caused her to finally lavish him with a very obvious eye-screwing of her own. 

“I think this is going to be even better because we made it together, Boyfriend.” 

He blushed again, wiping his hands off on his apron just to have something to do, and it was her turn to smirk.

“What’s the matter, Harry? You can’t stand a little mess?” She flicked a sprinkle of flour at him and he held one finger up in objection.

“Now, Macy, don’t you dare--”

She giggled and blew a much bigger cloud of flour at him until his face and hair were lightly dusted in the stuff. 

“I warned you,” Harry declared archly, just before he lunged at Macy with the bottle of chocolate sauce, squirting it all over her face and chest.

“Hey!” she cried in faux-anger, but he shook his head.

“Ah, no, no, no, _you_ started it.” He winked and she grabbed the can of whipped cream.

“I’m gonna finish it, too!” she proclaimed, launching an attack of frothy whipped topping at him as he deftly tossed several strawberries her way.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he laughed as she pelted him with chocolate chips. He clasped her elbows and drew her close to him, panting as the whipped cream fell slowly off his face, smiling at the trails of chocolate and strawberry juice streaking down Macy’s face, down her neck and slipping down the neckline of her dress.

“Oh, yes, I do,” she insisted, reaching up to swipe a dollop of whipped cream from just beside his mouth, then licking it off her fingers, slowly, never taking her eyes from his.

“Two can play that game,” he said throatily, kissing her cheek and then ever so swiftly and gently licking her skin, tasting the sweet and sticky residue of their food fight. 

Macy’s breath caught and she couldn’t withstand the raw, throbbing desire tightening at her needy core for another moment, not without kissing him, full-on, for real -- because despite this being Fanfictionland, despite their presence in a silly contrived fantasy, this passion between them was what it had always been, the realest and most shockingly powerful thing she’d ever known.

“There he is!” a brutish male voice proclaimed, “Get him!”

Harry rolled his eyes, not even deigning to look over at the loud interrupter who had shattered yet another almost-kiss moment. “Oh, come on, you’ve got to be--”

Three enormous thugs dressed in all black stormed through the bake-off and right at Harry, seizing him roughly and pinning his hands behind his back. “The boss is gonna be real happy to see you, Gallagher. There’s a few things he wants to _discuss_ with ya.”

“Unhand me at once, you idiotic ruffian,” Harry complained, fighting his captor’s hold on him to no avail as the other two lackeys looked on and cackled.

“Think you can just borrow the boss’s money, blow it on booze, pills and parties, and never pay him back?” The lead idiotic ruffian gave another darkly menacing laugh. “You’re screwed, buddy.”

Muffled sounds of panic and concern echoed throughout the town hall, but the mild-mannered townspeople were ill-equipped to confront such a big-city-style catastrophe.

“Let him go,” Macy demanded furiously, raising her hands pointlessly before remembering she didn’t have use of her powers here. “Dammit! Let him go, he’s the main character, you can’t hurt him!”

“Lady, we’re gonna rough him up to within an inch of his adorable little British life _because_ he’s the main character,” the leader retorted with an eye-roll, as if she must be a total moron not to understand what was happening.

And then Macy did understand, with a cold sense of dread tempered only by her understanding that there was a clear end in sight for the ordeal awaiting poor Harry.

“Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry,” she called, running after the thugs as they dragged him outside with ruthless aggression. She ran as fast as her feet could carry her until she reached the black van where the mobster minions unceremoniously threw Harry into the backseat area.

He blinked at her in frightened confusion as she tried and failed to get to him, one lackey pushing her back from the van until she fell to the sidewalk, pain radiating up from her immediately skinned knees. 

“Macy, what’s happening?” he called out, and she gave a sigh of regretful resignation.

“I’m so, so sorry, Harry,” she repeated, looking at him wild-eyed, helpless to stop what was happening. 

“This is the whump part of the story!” she added, just before the van doors slammed heavily shut and the tires squealed as the kidnappers made their getaway.


	4. Hurt/Comfort

“Shit!” Macy fumed, looking all around the sweetly simplistic town square for some tiny bit of hope that there was a way to save Harry. What could she do, without her powers, without a clue where the kidnappers had even taken him?

Then, all at once, she remembered who she was. She might not have access to her real magical abilities, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t call upon another obvious source of power.

“Yes! I’m Mary Sue! Why didn’t I think of that right away?” Macy enthused, causing a few random people strolling by to give her weird looks.

“Of course you’re Mary Sue, dear,” said an older gentleman, pausing to add, “And by the way, about the charity art show you’re organizing at the library--”

“Sorry, no time to chat right now,” she answered briskly, turning on her heel and running into the grassy area in front of the gazebo. 

“It is I!” She shouted at the top of her lungs, spreading her arms out as if beckoning answers from the skies above. “The Chosen One!”

Within seconds, a gorgeous gold-eyed guy with blue hair, sporting black robes and a disapprovingly puzzled expression, appeared in a cloud of azure smoke right before her eyes.

“Shhh!” he chided, “Don’t go spreading that around! Your Legacy is a closely guarded secret. How did you even come to know of it? I wasn’t planning to show up and do your orientation program until...hmmm…” He look out his phone and flicked the screen open distractedly, “Let me check my Google calendar…”

Even though her heart belonged to Harry, Macy couldn’t help noticing how dazzlingly attractive this stranger was. “Oh, I bet you’re supposed to be the other love interest. Why does it always have to be a triangle? Never mind, listen, what’s your name?”

He looked at her as if she was the blue one who apparated around in clouds of smoke. “It’s Arophiar.”

“Okay, Arophiar, this is an emergency, no time to waste. What kind of Chosen One am I? Just tell me my powers and a super-condensed summary of how to use them.”

“It doesn’t work like that!” he scolded. “Once you have your mystical pen, you’ll be able to go anywhere you like with a single thought, plus fight evildoers with the merest swish and dash of your--”  


“Mystical pen?” Macy repeated dubiously. “Really? That’s the best name they could come up with?”

“Well, stele was taken -- hey, don’t do that!” Arophiar complained as Macy stuck her hand in his robes’ pocket and drew out a long, thin silver wand with a pointed tip on one end which indeed resembled a writing implement. “I have to train you for weeks before you’re even allowed to touch one of those!”

“So, how does it work?” Macy mused, swirling the mystic pen around, examining the mysterious runic engravings and the way the magical tool glinted in the sunlight. “Pretty cool. So, I just imagine where I want to be…”

“No,” Arophiar insisted, “Don’t! Listen, I wanted to ease into this explanation, but you leave me no choice! Your long-lost mother is the most lethally powerful sorceress of all time, and only _you_ , only you with the mighty will of your birthright, have the ability to stop her from taking over the world!”

Macy smirked. “Mmhmm, I’m sure. But I know a little something about suddenly learning you have a great magical destiny. And while in real life it _did_ take me some time to fully harness my powers and learn what my origin story meant for me, here and now I’m a Mary Sue. That means I don’t need to train because I’m naturally amazing at anything I ever try to do. I need to save my boy-- I mean, my friend -- I mean my whitelighter! And I’m not going to let anything as insignificant and boring as logical plot pace hold me back!”

“Mary Sue, please, listen to reason,” he begged, “I’m sorry that your boy is in danger, but--”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Macy sighed, “But I love him.” All at once it hit her with a realization more empowering than any majestic legacy or magic spell: she did love him. She always had. And not only as a friend. Not only as her whitelighter. Harry meant everything to her, and it felt fantastic to finally just _say_ that out loud.

“I love him!” she repeated, a warm, determined smile lighting up her face as she tightened her grip on the mystical pen. 

Closing her eyes, she focused on the memory of Harry being forced into the black van. She directed all her emotional and intellectual energy towards the one goal of finding him, and the surge of anger at his kidnappers combined with her vulnerably open need to be with him until the pen heated up in her hand. When she opened her eyes again, she saw that it had started to glow with a bright yellow light. Then she reached her arm out and drew a doorway in the air, just before she flicked the pen at it, causing the view of the pretty green grass where they stood to shudder and vanish from within the rectangle she'd created, the doorway now a portal to a dark, dank industrial building.

“An abandoned warehouse,” she reasoned, “Of course. Funny how there’s so many of those just lying around waiting to become villains’ lairs. Anyway, thanks so much, Aragorn, I appreciate the help!”

“It’s _Arophiar_ ,” he objected, “And don’t you dare go through that portal!”

“Sorry, but I’m so delightfully plucky that everyone just gives into my every whim, including you,” Macy shrugged, stepping easily from the picturesque town square into the dimly foreboding warehouse.

The portal closed behind her before Arophiar could make any further protests. Macy thought of a flashlight and swished the pen around until it lit up at the tip.

“Ha, nice! _Lumos,_ ” she noted in satisfaction, making her way down a hallway towards the sound of voices. 

“Harry!” she called, fear striking her heart again at the reality of confronting whatever state of whump he might be in by now. Thank God she’d acted quickly, before the angst subplot could fully highjack the fluff.

“Macy!” he called back, voice strained but resilient. “We’re in here!”

“Shut up, Gallagher,” one of the thugs commanded, and then she heard the harsh smack of fist to stomach and the sound of Harry coughing and wheezing in response to the blow.

“Oh, I don’t _think_ so,” Macy declared, furious enough that it was a good thing for Harry’s captors that she couldn’t tap into her demon side here in Fanfictionland. How dare they hurt him, how dare anyone--

“Get away from him, you bitch!” she shouted, swish-and-dashing the pen, sending blinding yellow energy bursts straight at the thugs who had Harry tied to a chair as they roughed him up. The villains all hit the floor with resounding thuds, groaning and wavering near unconsciousness, rubbing their various injuries as Macy darted forward and untied Harry, then helped him to stand.

“Sorry I couldn’t get here faster,” she sighed, cupping his face and running her thumb gently over the fresh bruises just starting to blossom, the cut in his lower lip. “Oh, God, Harry, I wish it could have been me instead.”

“Nonsense,” he chided, slightly hunched over due to the pain in his belly, “I wouldn’t hear of it, and you know that. The only result would have been an argument over who should be kidnapped until we bored these uncouth bastards to death.”

“I know,” she smiled, softly tracing his cheekbone and then slipping her arm through his and lifting the pen again. “That would be very us. Come on, let’s go home.”

They arrived right smack in the middle of the Friends to Lovers Cafe, where Clover nearly dropped her tray of frozen green teas and tomato-hummus-sprout-topped bagels. “Whoa! Mary Sue, how did you do that? And what happened to poor Hartley?”

All of the starry eyed afternoon customers stopped playing footsie and lowered their spoons from their grain bowls, staring at the bedraggled couple who had suddenly appeared in their midst, Harry all sweaty and whumped, his clothing ripped in non-ironic ways for once, and Macy still wielding her electric yellow, glowing mystical pen.

“Ahem,” she said, neatly cutting through the white noise of the couples’ concerned remarks, “Nothing to see here, carry on with your organic, local farm-sourced small plates. I’ll just bring Hartley upstairs and make sure he's alright.”

“Oookaaayyy,” Clover allowed, serving the drinks and food, then setting the tray on the counter before turning back to face Harry and Macy, looking apprehensive of what she said next. “Listen, Mary Sue, on another topic from your sudden and totally shocking exceptional abilities, the landlord was here earlier, and he said you still hadn’t paid the rent…”

“Probably not,” Macy allowed, unfazed, “I’m probably obnoxiously self-sacrificing and give my family almost every cent I earn. No prob! I’m sure if it was a major plot point, the landlord would have an actual name.”

Harry leaned on her heavily, and she held him securely, automatically encouraging him to trust in her care as he gave another weak cough, chuckling at her remark.

“Huh? Of course the landlord has a _name,_ silly,” Clover replied confidently, “It’s--oh, that’s weird. I can’t remember it now. But…”

“Toldja,” Macy bragged.

“Well, anyway, he had some movers with him? Said he was repossessing your furniture to cover the debt? I’m sorry, Mary Sue, there was nothing I could do to stop...whatever his name is.” Clover looked as if her overworked supporting character brain was exhausted by now, and Macy gave her a reassuring smile and nod.

“Really, Clover, don’t worry about it. I’m sure Arophiar will be showing up soon, so do me a favor and give into the instant crush you develop on him, distract him so he doesn’t come upstairs and bother us? Trust me, your feelings will only be unrequited for about three books or seasons or so, until he realizes he never really wanted me and it was you he’s loved all along. Thankless subplot, but a nice, happy ending.”

“Aro- _what_?” Clover asked, looking if possible even more perplexed than before.

“Blue hair, gold eyes, Kylo Ren emo fashion aesthetic, can’t miss him,” Macy clarified breezily. 

Then she guided Harry carefully upstairs, not wanting to risk blowing the cafe patrons’ minds any further by again using her mystical pen to transport them.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something, although I’ve been somewhat busy getting the British knocked out of me for the last half hour or so,” Harry remarked, his eyes twinkling with amusement despite how much his injuries must hurt.

Macy led him to the couch, noticing that as Clover had intimated, plenty of furniture had been confiscated by The Landlord, including the tv and its cabinet, plus the coffee table and bookcases. 

“Actually, I don't think an atomic bomb could knock the British out of you," Macy said fondly, making him laugh, then flinch as the pain flared in his ribs.

"Hey, you're okay," she added, "I've got you. Just stay right there." He nodded and watched with obedient curiosity as she flew into action.

"What's your question?” she asked, raising her voice slightly as she went to the bathroom to gather some first aid supplies. Luckily, there was a fully stocked whumpee’s kit with bandages, ointment and an icepack, which she stopped in the kitchen to fill.

“What the hell is ‘whump’?” Harry inquired, licking his split lip and then pressing two fingers to his throbbing forehead.

Macy placed a folded towel on the floor and arranged the supplies on it, then left the room again, returning with a tall glass of water and two ibuprofens. “Here, take these.” 

Harry nodded and popped the pills into his mouth, then gulped down the whole glass of water, so fast she knew it would make him dizzy. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, take it easy, Harry,” she soothed, sitting beside him and catching the glass when he inevitably dropped it, his grip weakening as the dizzy spell set in. He sighed and pressed his hands to his knees, eyes squeezed shut, trying to regain equilibrium. 

“Sorry, it’s just I felt like I was dying…” He looked at her again, his gorgeous, loving eyes sweeping over her attentively besotted expression until he was awestruck. “Dying of thirst,” he finished belatedly.

“Will you please stop apologizing to me?” Macy requested, picking up a warm, wet cloth and carefully cleaning his wounds, starting with a cut on his brow. He winced.

“I’m sorry...whoops!” She giggled, realizing she specialized in unnecessary apologies at least as much as he did. “Anyway, whump is when one character is put through the angst ringer, usually including some form of physical ordeal, with the main end goal being that their love interest gets to be the one to patch them up afterwards.”

“Is there no end to these outrageously absurd fanfiction tropes?” he asked, his body relaxing more as she dabbed the cloth against his mouth.

Macy laughed at the way the the cloth on his lips had slightly muffled his weary question.

“Yes...there is an end, and it’s in sight. Just look how far we’ve come, Harry, all the way from the beginning of A Star is Born to the middle of Terminator! It’s amazing. You know, I think we’re pretty good at this fanfiction stuff.”

“Perhaps we are, but please tell me there won’t be any more unpleasant surprises in store before we reach our blissful conclusion.” He raised his eyebrows as she tenderly lifted his arms and pulled his shirt off over his head.

She examined the bruises on his stomach and Harry blushed, self-conscious now that he was half-naked under her searching gaze. Macy looked up at him with helpless devotion written all over her face.

“I’m sure there might be a few surprises left, but I don’t think they’ll be unpleasant,” she predicted, caressing a sore spot and making him shiver in combined pain and pleasure. His reaction made her hand tremble slightly until he clasped her wrist, pressing her fingers more firmly to his warm, sensitive skin.

“I-I guess I could’ve used my Mary Sue powers to heal you,” she realized sheepishly, unable to break the mutual staring which had her elated, aroused...but not frightened by Harry’s effect on her. Not anymore.

“No, please don’t,” he said huskily, “I want you to take care of me, just like this...please.”

“Harry,” she sighed, and he let go of her wrist to clasp her face, drawing her to him as she moved with instinctual, rapturous fluidity, pressing her mouth to his with a sweet, soft, exquisite pressure.

Harry let out a shaky breath against her lips as they drew back from that first, fluttery, tentative kiss, and she felt her soul singing, her head spinning, every fiber of her being craving more, more contact, all of him all over all of her, every day and night for the rest of her life. 

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” she said with a complicated smile, stroking her fingers through his hair. Hadn’t that been part of her hesitation from the beginning? She just had this inherent expectation that letting someone into her heart this deeply would end in mutually assured destruction.

He nodded, taking her full meaning, not only the part of her remark intended to refer to his current injuries, the fact that kissing or doing...anything else would sting and smart at his cuts, his bruises, the abrasions wrought by his willingness to live this fantasy with her. Except it didn’t feel like a fantasy anymore.

“Macy, I don’t mind if it hurts. I just want you...I just need you. More than anything, more than any happiness or pain. And I promise, I’m never going to stop.”

Tears welled up in her eyes and any words she might have formed in reply faded away in the eloquence of passionate silence. Harry kissed her again, igniting the tension between them until she moaned into his mouth, sliding her tongue against his, climbing into his lap and straddling him, his hands in her hair, his body under her roaming fingers hot and hard and ready.

“I love you,” she whispered when their lips parted just long enough for them to keep breathing, and Harry brushed away the tears that cascaded down her smooth, flushed cheek. 

Macy’s sundress was hiked up around her thighs, her wet panties pressed to his bare stomach as he smoothed his touch up over her knee, stroking her thigh, slipping his fingers beneath her underwear to squeeze her naked ass. Her breath caught and then his lips were on her neck, pouring his worship over her delicate, needy skin, her moans fueling his ardor as he licked and lightly nipped her, sending a jolt of excitement through her body that reverberated at her damp center.

“I love you, too,” he said raspily, the heat of the moment and the magic of their environment removing his physical exhaustion as he stood, lifting Macy up in his arms, continuing to kiss her as much as he could without bumping into anything as she clung to him, legs hitched around his beautiful body, the straps of her dress slipping down around her shoulders.

His intention had been to bring her to his bed, but he paused, breaking from her already swollen lips with confusion, realizing that Hartley’s room was empty.

“The Landlord,” they said in unison, realizing that the spare room’s furniture had been seized along with that of the living room. 

Harry and Macy laughed, then resumed kissing as he carried her instead to Mary Sue’s room, laying her on the bed and sliding between her hips. Her breasts in the thin dress crushed to his chest and she could feel his heart beating frantically. 

“It’s perfect,” she grinned between kisses, “We should have known.”

“Indeed,” said Harry with a very, _very_ naughty smile, “There’s only one bed. I suppose we’ll just have to make do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all my wonderful readers, hope you liked the chapter! If you would also like to check out my original novel on Wattpad, I'll include the link here. It's a Victorian Mystery/Romance and has plenty of my trademark romance and humor, although it's a lot more serious than this fic, lol! My Wattpad profile is https://www.wattpad.com/user/vmwatson
> 
> See you back here for more Hacy soon! :D


	5. Shameless Smut / Happy Ending

“Harry,” Macy sighed, kissing his mouth over and over as he rested naked between her legs, not a stitch of clothing between them, his urgent hard-on pressed teasingly to her thigh. “Oh, God…” She shivered, clinging to him as if for dear life.

“What is it?” he asked sweetly, his voice as tender as it was erotic. 

He saw how overwhelmed she was and caressed her face, smiling. It was one of the first things she’d noticed and loved about him, his tremendous ability to empathize, but more than that, his earnest desire to care for others. It was such a rare, beautiful quality, the way he dedicated himself to making others happy, the way he took his own happiness from being there for others when they needed him. The more he cared for someone, the more intensely he gave of himself, and the look in his eyes combined with the obvious desire emanating from his body to assure her she was receiving his utmost devotion.

“It’s just...I’ve wanted you so badly, for so long, I…” She tried and failed to catch her breath, her heart hammering as she kept her big brown eyes locked to his grey-blue gaze. Her hand trembled as it wandered his body, gliding her knuckles down his abs as he shuddered, his cock getting harder against her skin. “I want you _so_ much, it’s like I can barely breathe.”

“Macy, you don’t have to want me, I’m yours,” Harry assured her. “You have me, and you can keep having me anytime you want -- well, within reason.” Then he winked, “Unreasonably, too.”

“I want you now the same way I did when I didn’t think we could ever be together. Like I’ll never touch you, like I’m afraid someday you won’t be there anymore. I can’t believe we’re really here, doing this.” Her voice wavered, and then he kissed her forehead softly, running his fingers through her hair. “It doesn’t make any sense. It’s...desperate. I can’t relax.”

“Why don’t you tell me all about your favorite lovemaking scene from one of your fanfictions?” Harry proposed gently. 

Macy’s face, already flaming, seemed to get even hotter. “Oh, uh...I couldn’t do that, it’s too…um, embarrassing...I couldn’t...” she sighed again more raggedly as he kissed her neck, then bit and sucked at her smooth, delicate skin, grinding his erection against her slowly, deliberately. 

“You could,” he reasoned, licking her clavicle and glancing up at her with the very naughtiest intent. “You should.”

“Ohhh...okay,” she conceded, immediately picturing a sultry scene from a much-read _Heaven’s Vice_ fic which never failed to get her hot and bothered...especially because every time she read it, she pictured the lovers as herself and Harry. “The guy in the story, he’s on top, just like you are.”

“Good start,” he smirked, gliding his lips down her neck again, then cupping her breasts with a roughly commanding insistence she never would have expected, but which made her give a swift yelp of pleasure as his thumbs grazed her nipples. “I suppose in that case, he couldn’t possibly resist doing this.”

“N-no, he couldn’t,” she admitted, her lashes fluttering, eyes rolling up as she guided his head down to her breasts. “He starts kissing her chest, licking…”

Harry obediently lowered his mouth, capturing one nipple and licking it in slowly roving, maddening circles, his fingers busily teasing her other breast until he sucked hard and lightly bit.

“Fuck...oh my God,” Macy moaned, running her hands over his gorgeous, smooth, warm back, lost in the feel of his body and his mouth, his goddamn _teeth_ \-- she was completely done for.

“Then what?” he asked, drawing back with his cheeks flushed, his lips pillowy from delighted overuse.

“He glides his tongue down her stomach -- mmmm…” Macy grabbed the pillow, unable to stop the shivers in her body as Harry acquiesced, leaving a sleek trail on her belly, then dipping his head a little lower to sharply, suddenly bite her thigh. “Harry!” She slammed her fingers into his hair and tugged hard.

“I hope you don’t mind if I improvise,” Harry suggested coyly, and she nodded, biting her lip, already loving the way he looked with sex hair. 

She was getting him messy, eagerly tearing through every page of his perfectly organized emotional narrative, pulling the seams until he surrendered his most vulnerable secret, his darkest needs spilling all over her just like she’d always wanted. There was absolutely nothing as delicious as a good boy gone bad, and Harry was such a very good boy that she had always held the sneaky suspicion he could also be about as bad as it got.

“So what does he do next?”

“He g-goes down on her,” Macy whimpered, head tilting back as her eyes fluttered shut. Harry spread her thighs a little more and lavished his tongue over her aching cunt, immediately shuddering in bliss as she gasped, legs shaking harder.

“Mmm,” Harry hummed, sending a vibration through her core that licked a powerful flame of pleasure inside her. “You’re so perfect.” He lapped at her rhythmically, then tongue-fucked her, confidently holding her legs steady. He sucked luxuriously, then thrust his tongue inside her twice more before he flicked it against her clit and she came, shattering and moaning, clutching at his hair, noticing in her haze that the more aggressively she handled him, the more his excitement grew. It inspired her to wonder how much more she could rile him up with this type of mischief, and she grinned, all her hesitations and nervousness totally forgotten.

“I don’t know what he did next, but I don’t care anymore,” Harry growled, rising up to press his cock against her sopping slit where she still throbbed with the residual waves of her orgasm. He looked into her eyes just for that last split second’s consent and she nodded, fingernails grazing his back.

He gave a deep groan at the feel of her nails raking over his aroused, sensitive skin as he sank his rigid cock between her slick folds and she lifted her legs as high and tight around him as she could, wanting him as deep as possible. Cupping her ass and lifting her slightly to gain that perfect depth, Harry drove slowly in and out of her, sending electric currents through both of their bodies as his thick erection finally sank in to the hilt and they panted, staring into each other’s eyes. 

“Macy,” he gasped harshly, leaning in to kiss her lips with that same desperate craving, only getting needier and more shameless, the taste of her own juices still warm on his mouth, the precious delicacies of her feverish moans bursting sweetly on his tongue.

A raw, powerful ache radiated through her lower body, but the pressure of full penetration only increased her hunger for more of the same. She grasped his head and kissed him harder, then grabbed his ass as he responded with another growl, ending his teasing ways, slamming into her faster, following the irresistible song of the tempo he’d built up until he gave a savage cry and climaxed, his head falling into her neck, his breath pooling hot against her skin.

Macy’s shocked cries of pleasure had intensified his own, and he was nowhere near done showing her his love. They both knew, in fact, that there could never be enough of this for either one of them; underneath even the sharpest, most profound ecstasies of their togetherness there whispered the residual craving for more, more, harder, deeper, forever. 

“Turn over,” he whispered breathlessly, guiding Macy onto her hands and knees, then pressing his palm to her back to encourage her to lower slightly, her face resting against the sheet, heart pounding in anticipation as she looked back at him. His smile was devilish as just a few strokes of his cock against her entrance again ensured he was rock hard. Squeezing and massaging her ass, he slid back inside her pussy, moaning at her beautifully tight, wet, pulsing walls. 

“Oh, God, Harry,” Macy cried out as he gripped her hips and fucked her in long, deep, firm strokes. She could feel the tension at her core rising with his every thrust, the tingles and waves of pleasure building as their voices grew even louder, more demanding, and then he started to spank her, following the rhythm of his thrusts in doing so, causing each collision of his strong hand to her supple behind to increase her rapture until she came again. Her pussy squeezed tight around him, making him moan, loving her with animalistic frenzy. Then he found release, riding out the orgasm as she watched him over her shoulder in awestruck disbelief.

He pulled out of her slowly, with a helpless shudder, and they fell easily into a spooning position as he nestled her against him, drawing Mary Sue’s cute daisy-printed sheets up to her shoulder, kissing her ear and neck warmly, his fingers threading through her hair, his body behind her hot and slick with perspiration, fragrant as they both were with the smell of his spicy aftershave, the honeysuckle of her hair and the lingering, heady scent of her desire. 

Macy was shaking all over as Harry murmured her name and went on cuddling her, his knees cradled behind her own, anchoring her in his embrace. He dropped a kiss on her shoulder and added coyly, “Was that as good as the scene from your favorite story?”

“Harry,” she laughed as her body slowly started to calm back down, easing into the warmth and protection of his hold on her. “Are you asking me how you measure up to my favorite E-rated, NSFW under _any_ circumstances, enemies-to-lovers PWP? I mean it has like ten thousand hits on AO3. Kudos through the roof.”

“Well, yes, mmhmm, let’s have it, then,” he requested, his sexy voice tickling her ear.

Macy shifted to face him, managing about three seconds of a serious expression before his questioning look made her break, giggling as she said, “Gideon _who_?”

“And we’re just getting started,” he smirked. Then another glimmer of curiosity crossed his face as he added, “So what generally happens after a smut scene in fanfiction?” 

“Oh, not a whole lot, actually, unless you’re talking like a 100K epic where there are still a lot of plot points to be worked out. In something like a fluff fic, it’s usually just a little end scene to cap things off, ‘happily ever after’ and all that,” Macy reflected.

Just then, almost as if in response to her words, the room around them vanished and they fell to the floor of the attic back at the Vera-Vaughn house, still naked except for the bedsheets which had been wrapped around them. 

“ _Ow!_ ” Macy complained, sitting up and rubbing her elbow. 

Harry winced, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Indeed. What in the hell just happened?”

“Oh, I know, it’s super-disorienting, right?” Maggie chirped, causing Harry and Macy to look up from the floor where they were tangled up together in post-coital confusion to the sight of Macy’s sisters, standing a few paces back, politely keeping their eyes on absolutely anything but the lovers.

“That happened to me and Parker once and I was like, ‘hello, universe, how about a warning the next time you want to interrupt my mind-blowing sex with a crazy sudden relocation?’” Maggie beamed, proud at the result of her meddling, although she was definitely worried that Macy and Harry _miiighhht_ be a little annoyed with her for interfering. She gulped and glanced apprehensively at Mel.

“The mind-blowing sex was over by the time we suddenly reapparated here,” Macy clarified archly. “Or at least we were taking a break.” Harry blushed and nodded, holding Macy’s hand and stroking her fingers. 

“I--well, okay then, I see!” Mel said with hilariously unconvincing nonchalance. Looking up at the ceiling, she added a little too loudly, “We _were_ following the plot of your story as it typed itself across the screen, to make sure you were okay, right up until you guys started making out, and then…”

“We obviously knew things were going from Nicholas Sparks to E.L. James, so we put the phone _away_ and gave you both some privacy,” Maggie put in. 

“Oh, come on, it was _so_ much better than Notebook or Fifty Shades,” Macy griped, standing up alongside Harry, the sheet still wrapped around them both, a fun and helpful souvenier from their trip to fanfictionland.

“I actually resent both of those comparisons,” Harry agreed.

“Whatever, it went from Mature to Explicit, okay? And anyway, I feel like I do owe you both a little tiny apology,” Maggie cringed.

“You mean for uprooting them from all reality and throwing them into some insane dreamworld manufactured to encourage the romantic feelings between them which they’d both decided to keep repressing?” Mel pointed out amusedly.

“Yeah, for that,” Maggie nodded. She made the mistake of accidentally looking over at the naked couple again and quickly threw a hand up in front of her _somewhat_ penitent face. “I’m sorry. I wanted you guys to be happy because I love you so much, and I got just a teensy bit carried away.”

“You definitely did,” Macy chuckled, exchanging a loving, happy look at Harry that told her he held about as much resentment towards Maggie as she did: zero. “But to my surprise, it turned out that what the two of us actually needed more than anything was to get...carried away. Together.”

“Exactly,” Harry affirmed. “As a matter of fact, Maggie, far from being angry with you for interfering, I’m quite grateful that you helped us to finally let go of our insecurities and our worries and just enjoy our own very unorthodox and ultimately wonderful adventure.”

“What about the whump?” Mel asked, arranging the bottles of Marisol’s potions in an even neater row on the desk. “Harry, that had to hurt, are you okay?”

“Hmm, well it did hurt a little at the time, but my injuries began to unrealistically fade almost as soon as I kissed Macy,” he reasoned, patting his much-less-sore ribs.

“Awww!” Maggie clasped her hands together dreamily. “It’s just like a fairy tale! It gives me hope that if these two could blossom into a full-on OTP, maybe there’s hope for me and Parker, and for Mel, with whoever she’s meant to be with.” She elbowed Mel, who groaned and rolled her eyes.

“I don’t need a soulmate to complete me,” Mel insisted. “Buuuttt, it is kind of nice to think about getting that kind of happiness again.” She gave a small, thoughtful smile.

“Hey, do you think if fanfictionworld gave you a better singing voice and guitar skills, showed me how to make complicated lattes and wield a mystic pen, _and_ healed your wounds on an expedited schedule...it might also have made the sex...unrealistically amazing?” Macy mused.

“Let’s put it this way,” Harry said smartly, “My account of my terrible singing voice was slightly exaggerated because I would have said basically anything to avoid getting up on that stage. And we did retain our natural baking skills during the competition.”

“That’s true,” Maggie contributed, “When he’s stayed here, I noticed that Harry sings when he’s doing the laundry, and honestly, despite the adult contemporary light rock kinda vibe, he’s not half-bad.”

“And that’s coming from a Hilltone,” he said proudly, flashing Macy a saucy smile. “In short, Macy, I’m really not worried about our future sexual encounters not living up to the first.”

“Oh, gross, you guys, I do _not_ need to hear about this,” Mel fussed, closing her eyes and covering her ears as the others all laughed.

“I suppose there’s only one way to really find out,” Macy grinned. “And now that you have your regular powers back, Harry…”

“Exactly,” he said excitedly, snapping his fingers as they orbed away, doubtless to Macy’s bedroom to test their theory.

“Ew, ew, ew,” Mel shuddered, “I’m going out, I need a drink.” 

“They’re having an outdoor movie tonight in the quad, you should check it out,” Maggie suggested lightly, her eyes twinkling. “It’s a rom-com double feature. That way you can drink _and_ let a little more hope for love into your heart.”

“Fine, I’ll go, but you realize I’m going to complain about the rampant patriarchy which I’m pretty sure will be running through every frame of those flicks. Are you coming with me? I need someone to complain to.”

“Yeah, you go ahead, I’ll catch up,” Maggie nodded contemplatively, sitting down and opening the laptop on the desk. She logged into her email account and opened up a new message, thinking it was time to finally let down her own defenses and pour her heart out to someone who deserved to know how much she missed him.

_Dear Parker…_

“Okay,” Mel shrugged, “I’ll see you there.” She tromped downstairs, scowling as she passed Macy’s room, where her sister and Harry were being anything but quiet and subtle in their affection. “Jeez, guys, take it down a notch,” she groused as she hurried past the bedroom door. “You’re not the only ones living here, and anyway, you’re going to break the bed at this rate.” 

Inside her darkened room, Macy looked down at Harry from where she sat astride him, her hands planted on his chest. “Do you think we might actually be in danger of breaking the bed?”

“Perhaps,” he grinned, “But it’s like you said, Macy, there’s only one way to find out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story's title is taken from the song "Automatically in Love" by Carly Rae Jepsen. <3


End file.
